


Ghost Stories

by zombified_queer



Category: Bugsnax (Video Game)
Genre: (on Snaktooth), Gen, Mild Horror, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29781798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified_queer/pseuds/zombified_queer
Summary: Filbo finds Lizbert's Ouija board. Beffica thinks it's a dumb toy for squeebs (and Lizbert who's totally not a squeeb). The journalist thinks it could be fun.
Relationships: Beffica Winklesnoot & Filbo Fiddlepie & The Journalist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Ghost Stories

“Hey, Buddy, guess what I found?” Filbo holds the box up, grinning like a madman. 

“Ouija board?”

“It’ll be fun, right?” Filbo asks, suddenly unsure. “I mean, I don’t believe in ghosts, but, y’know? Could be a fun game night? We didn’t pack a lot of board games so—”

“Where’d you even get that, squeeb?” Beffica asks, lowering her camera.

“Well, I, um...It’s Lizbert’s. We used to do them all the time so...”

The journalist thinks Beffica’s going to tear into Filbo about looting and private property. She’s done it to Cromdo enough times. But Beffica looks sad and covers it with a mask of indifference.

“Well, I guess if my bestie thinks it’s okay...”

“Could be fun, Filbo.”

Filbo gives you a weak smile. “I’ll set it up for tonight. We could use my hut.”

“As if,” Beffica scoffs. “If that thing moves to your hut, you’ll cling to it. Let’s just leave it in Lizbert’s.”

“Sure.” Filbo looks wounded. “Okay.”

“We should leave Lizbert’s stuff in her hut,” the journalist adds, “for when she comes back.”

Filbo nods. He takes the box back into Lizbert’s hut.

“Hey, bestie?”

“Beffica.”

“It’s going to be totally lame if we just have us. Go round up some more peeps to play with Filbo’s little ghost toy?”

“Sure, Beffica.”

The journalist starts at the research tent. It’s right there. after all. And it saves the trouble of having to walk to Floofty and Triffany’s huts separately.

“We’re trying to get a group to...play with? Use a Ouija board,” they explain.

Floofty rolls their eyes. “Ghosts. What a childish thing to believe in.”

“Well, you never know, Floofty,” Triffany points out. “Lots of cultures believed in ghosts. Benevolent spirits and the like. But I’m just too busy here. Sorry.”

“I decline,” Floofty adds. 

So that rules them out. The journalist stops by Cromdo’s little stall.

“Hiya, Cromdo. We’re going to use Lizbert’s old ouija board and—”

“Stop. No. Whatever you’re gonna ask, don’t.”

“Alright.” And the journalist keeps walking down the way to the mill.

“‘sup, dawg?” Chandlo asks.

“We’re looking to get some people to use Lizbert’s Ouija board,” the journalist explains.

“I dunno, dawg. Snorpy gets, like, real freaked out about occult stuff. I think we’re better off benched for this one.”

“Understandable,” the journalist tips their news fedora. “Have a nice day, Chandlo! And tell Snorpy I said hi!”

“Will do, dawg!”

Leaning on the fence, they ask Gramble the same question.

“I don’t like scary stuff.” Gramble’s voice wavers. “And how d’you know Beffica’s not gonna set up a prank.”

Fair point. The journalist admits, “I don’t.”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Gramble. No is a complete sentence.”

So it looks like it’ll just be the three of them. Filbo, Beffica, and the journalist. They make the short walk back to Lizbert’s hut. 

“Did you find anyone?” Beffica asks.

“No one wants to join us,” the journalist removes their hat, resting it on the rack. “Just the three of us.”

“In a haunted cabin,” Beffica adds.

“And we’ll be doing it at night.” Filbo shudders as he gets the candles laid out. 

“We should, like, hang a curtain over the door. Y’know for atmosphere?”

“On it!” the journalist calls.

* * *

There’s an unmistakable chill in the air. And it’s quiet, like a storm’s rolling in. Filbo lights the first of the candles, providing some light in the small, dark cabin. 

The pictures of Lizbert and Eggabell seem to follow the journalist, no matter where they step. It’s eerie. 

“Boo.”

The journalist nearly jumps out of their skin when Beffica whispers in their ear.

“Oh my Grump, I totally got you.” Beffica laughs. “Oh this is going to be great.”

“Well,” Filbo cuts in, setting the planchette on the board. “Are we ready?”

The journalist and Beffica join Filbo in the center of the room, on the rug. Each Grumpus places a paw on the board. 

“Um...Is anyone there?”

For a long moment, nothing happens. Then the planchette starts to move.

“Ugh, stop moving it, Filbo!” Beffica snaps. “I know it’s you.”

“Beff, I’m not doing anything. Buddy?”

“I thought it was Beffica until three seconds ago.”

The planchette glides over the board silently. It rests on the YES etched into the wood.

Jotting down notes, the journalist keeps glancing at the board.

“What’s your name?” Beffica asks, bolder than either of them. “Are you, like, dead?”

The planchette moves. N-O-N-A-M-E. Then it slides to a stop back at YES. 

“Okay we’re in a creepy haunted cabin and we’re talking to a ghost with no name.” Beffica scoffs. “This is dumb.”

The planchette moves again. W-I-N-K-L-E-S-N-O-O-T.

“Beffica, this isn’t a joke,” Filbo says. 

But Beffica looks like she’s seen a ghost. “I didn’t move it, Filbo. I wouldn’t spell out my own name.”

“How did you die?” Buddy asks.

B-U-G-S-N-A-X. Each jerk towards a letter is sharp, angry. The journalist jots that down in their notes, the anger in every motion.

“The Bugsnax? But they’re harmless,” Filbo points out. 

The planchette moves in a circle around the NO.

Rain begins to fall, the first few drops pattering on the roof. Filbo shudders. Beffica scoots closer to Filbo. The journalist stares at the board, wide-eyed and waiting. But the planchette doesn’t move.

“Ask it something,” Beffica prods, looking between Filbo and the journalist.

“Okay.” Filbo pauses to think. “What happened to Elizabert Megafig.”

“You squeeb!”

The planchette moves again. W-H-O. 

“How long ago did you die?” Buddy tests.

I-D-O-N-T-K-N-O-W.

“What if Floofty’s messing around?” Filbo asks. “You know how they are. Right?”

“I don’t think this is Floofty,” the journalist answers. 

The planchette jerks out of all their paws, spelling L-E-A-V-E over and over. And then the planchette moves in a circle over the wood, screeching so the three cover their ears with both paws.

Something blows the candles out. 

They don’t wait around to find out what. Filbo and Beffica and the journalist make a break for it, running.

When the journalist looks back, they find Bugsnax slithering out the window.


End file.
